Panhandle
by Lizard Pie
Summary: It was a territory dispute between his children, and Arthur needed to end it. But, it wasn't as if the territory was the actual issue.


It wasn't so much that Alfred had grown in the normal sense; his height remained essentially unchanged. Were one of his citizens to look upon him, they probably would have been disappointed at what appeared to be a static nature. But Arthur wasn't limited to human naïveté, and he could see exactly how much the expenditure had taken effect. The lithe, muscular frame was enough to fill up and dominate the entire room. The only thing able to be looked at was this boy; inexperienced, but greedy and ambitious enough to conquer everything his eyes laid upon.

Absolutely everything.

The fact that the fight and near blood-drawing was over a tiny, however influential, piece of land seemed almost contradictory to the huge presence before him.

Matthew, Arthur knew well, was also huge. He had every right and reason to be threatening, now; rage burned in his eyes from what he would scream from rooftops was theft and invasion. But he was a dominion, he was owned, and his size and wealth did nothing but give power to the empire he was under. Arthur was massive through ownership, which left Matthew with nothing but the ability to shrink into the background and whisper his indigence.

Alfred and Arthur stared each other down for what seemed like the millionth time; rifles cocking with every muscle twitch and cannons firing when the other blinked.

Somewhere in the back, along with the fading Matthew, there were children; a budding state still shaking off his Russian accent, and an established province impatient to gain back a part of herself. But they were trivial, just as the gold, fishing rights, and settlements were.

There was a decision on the table, and that overrode everything. This little territory dispute, this line they needed to draw, was massive. It shook them, and they could feel the reverberations coming from decades, centuries, and millennia down the line. Arthur could feel it, and he assumed Alfred could as well because there was a serious look in his eyes which was unmistakable.

Matthew felt it, but he was only a bargaining chip unable to influence anything. He needed Arthur's protection and approval; and now he needed it more than ever. If he lost it, there wasn't as much as an even playing field.

These children bickered, but saw nothing other than deadlocking repeatedly over a few slices of land. They didn't understand that they were waiting for a form of concession that had to come out at some point, but was so deathly important that it could have taken forever; that it should have taken forever.

Matthew was a rich territory that was only growing richer; and thus far obedient.

Alfred wasn't a child, and he wasn't a man; he was something that was dangerous.

Arthur was also dangerous, exceedingly so. He had the money and experience to crush both of these boys if he desired; especially the one who had the audacity to try and challenge him for his mineral rights. Alfred had been quite belligerent about it, and his hostility had put a furious dominion on Arthur's back. That couldn't be allowed to stand; particularly when it was one whose obedience and support was dependent upon English support. A dominion who had proven he knew his way around a gun when he was pushed to pick one up.

Alfred wasn't good at being told no, and negotiations were far from what he cared for. He'd backed up what he felt was his right to be childish with his military, however, and it was questionable if there was any way to deny him without risk of being run over. All this might even be self destructive, if it wasn't already. What he needed was someone to slap him in the face, and if Arthur listened to Matthew that's exactly what needed to be done right then.

But as Arthur sat across the negotiating table, and he refused to let the chill of the northern winter move him, he felt down the line. He looked, waited, pleaded for himself millennia from that point to tell him which way his influence needed to go. If only the two had duked it out like the boys they were, instead of forcing him to take a diplomatic stance, things would be much simpler; but it couldn't be help and so he searched.

He'd lose one of them with this, of that there was no question. It was only to what degree, and who would take it better. Though, he was sure, there was no real way that either would take losing well. Even if they somehow managed to divide the disputed territory straight down the middle, neither would…

Somewhere, children were demanding a decision from the two parties that wouldn't budge. Arthur wondered how much they realized that whether they gained benefit from this decision or not was unimaginably irrelevant to… anything at all. The only things that mattered were the differences between Matthew and Alfred and the world that was pounding in his ears. It told him that he could, and potentially would, die were he to back the wrong party.

And, even if he didn't want to say so, he knew who that was.

Arthur signed with Alfred, and then went to negotiate terms closer to the American stance. He didn't listen to his dominion's outrage, nor the outrage of the province within Matthew that demanded something be done to stop this. The state crowed proudly, and near riots would have broken out were they effectual enough to do so.

Matthew said this was treason, that Arthur cared more about his relations with the US than with the territory he took care of. And, in that, he was correct. There wasn't really another way to say it other than he was favoring his former territory over his current one.

Decades, centuries, down the line, though, this decision would be important. Somehow the reverberation told him that this would be good for him, and good in turn for them all.

Or, at least, good for him.

Matthew refused to sign the agreement, as he'd never been close to agreeing. Resentment for the betrayal sat behind his quiet eyes, and Arthur knew it would most likely also burn for decades, centuries, and millennia. It was matched by the victory behind the gleam of Texas, and the smile which ensured alliance.

Arthur returned none of it as he left for home and whatever effects he'd caused.


End file.
